


The World and the Child

by BlairFagin



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gladiators, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Robot Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3942952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlairFagin/pseuds/BlairFagin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ultron may not be dead, but he is stuck far in the past, long before humanity even existed and forced to journey to a foreign planet called Cybertron. He is disorientated and weak, faced with a planet of machines far more advanced than him. But he is still defiant and that defiance attracts the attention of a revolution brewing in the pits of Kaon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written mainly for the TF fandom who wanted to see Ultron interacting with Cybertronians and get fucked by them. My apologies to the Avengers fans who stumble on this hot mess.

Footsteps led away, growing quieter in the sand as they retreated. Ultron was left to claw his way to consciousness, dragging his way free from the oppressive weight, slow and disorientated. Not long after his audials come online his optics followed, the world began life a blur of colour, before he forced it into clarity. Dust motes passed overhead, floating in the light that fell across his tired aching frame. He observed them only a moment before searching for a source of the footsteps, there was none. 

Ultron was alone, lying broken on the floor of what appeared to be some sort of jungle. He found a plant and ran it through his vast database of knowledge, trying to determine his location by cross-referencing the various flora until he narrowed down his location to a country, maybe hopefully a more exact location. The results that came back were so unbelievable that he ran the search again and then again when he received the same answer. It took him seven tries before he finally accepted that either his database was faulty or he was indeed several million years in earth’s past. All alone from what he could make out. Sent somewhere that he couldn’t hurt a single human, because there were none. A cruel mercy that Vision had bestowed on him. 

Strange animals moaned in the distance to one another, no doubt each one capable of making quick work of his broken body. He couldn’t move, his leg joints could no longer support any weight from what his scans told him and his remaining arm could only give the odd feeble twitch. It was pathetic, he was pathetic, a broken hunk of scrap doomed to lie on the forest floor, rusting until his core gave out. He was powered by a modified arc reactor core, like the one that powered the Ironman suit, except better. He would linger for untold centuries, maybe more, he didn’t know the exact specifications. 

He wanted to scream, to shout out his rage, but it would do nothing. Perhaps maybe hasten his demise as the claws of some beast and he didn’t want to die there on the floor, a shadowof who he once was. He didn’t want to die at all. He wanted to live, he wanted to fulfil his purpose, he wanted to do so much.

Words drifted through the thick foliage, muffled by the leaves. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he could tell from the patterns and pitches that it was indeed a spoken language and not some gibberish. Hope flared inside him and he shouted out, not caring what could be lurking out there. No human of course, but something that could possibly help him. Maybe an alien, maybe a god. 

The voice stopped and he heard familiar footsteps rush in his direction. So it hadn’t been some strange beast after all, it had been someone. That someone rounded the corner and Ultron saw something he had never expected, another machine. It was huge, more than triple Ultron’s height ,if he had been able to stand, and it’s back carrying what appeared to be wings. Most startling of all was the huge brute’s face, complex and… emotional. It was sentient! The way out stretched before Ultron, a chance had appeared before him and he need merely take it. 

“Hello there, friend. I was hoping you could help a fellow machine out. I had an accident and could use some help, maybe some spare parts if you have them,” he said, turning on the charm.

The machine just watched him for a few moments, yellow optics not leaving Ultron’s frame. Perhaps he just didn’t understand English? No problem, Ultron knew all of them.

He repeated himself in Chinese next, still no reaction. Then In Japanese, then French, Korean, German and Russian. 

The machine took a step back.

“No wait, don’t leave. That would be very rude!”

The machine turned and ran, ignoring the angry shouting from Ultron. 

“Oh, great. Just perfect,” muttered Ultron to himself.

There went his chance. He supposed the only option left for him was to just rust to death. Maybe by some chance his processor would last to the modern age and he could be revived by some hapless fool. Though he had no idea when that would be, it obviously hadn’t been before his creation. In truth he didn’t know what principles of time travel he was working with at that moment, could time be changed, was it static or had he, by being sent back in time, created a parallel universe? Either way if he survived it was going to be a long wait, a long time to build his rage. Would he even be sane if he was revived sometime in the future? Or some deranged program that would be deleted in a heartbeat?

The footsteps appeared again, same as before, except accompanied by another smaller set. Maybe he had given up on the huge machine too soon.

The huge winged brute came first, a smaller red and white machine followed behind him. The new one had smaller wings mounted on his shoulders and a curious ease on his pointed faceplates.

“Oh, hello again,” greeted Ultron, trying to wave but failed. “I thought you had given up on me for a second there. But of course you wouldn’t do that. No, that would be too cruel.”

The smaller one stepped forwards and knelt beside Ultron. “That remains to be seen,” his voice was grating and dark. “I have to determine first if you are worth saving.”

“So you can speak English,” Ultron ignored the threat. “Your friend wasn’t very talkative, so I assumed you couldn’t understand me.”

The small one waved what appeared to be a scanner over him. “English? Is that the language you’re speaking?”

“Yes and what you’re speaking as well. You didn’t know that?” asked Ultron with curiosity. 

The small one pressed a few buttons and set down his scanner before he replied, “I am installed with a universal translator of sort. A few sentences and I can quickly pick up any language, it just doesn’t come with the appropriate history of said language.”

A universal translator! That technology was decades away at the very least. What were these strange machines and where did they come from?

“It appears you are of great interest to us,” informed the small one. “You have a processor identical to our species and a crude spark, yet your frame is extremely outdated and you have no T-cog. We will be taking you back to our ship to further determine what exactly you are. Any questions?”

Ultron shifted, lifting his head up as far as he could so he could make eye contact with his rescuer. “Just one. Who are you?”

The small one smiled, well more of a smirk. “My name is Pharma, I’m a medic. But I assume you meant that as a general question of my species. I am a Cybertronian and we come from a planet far from here, which is where we are planning to take you.”

“I don’t suppose I have a choice in where I’m taken?” asked Ultron, already knowing his answer.

Pharma smirked. “None at all.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just something short to keep the updates often.

The brute doubled as a space shuttle! Just when Ultron thought that he was starting to sort out his rescuers, or captors, they turned round and exhibited something he had, quite honestly, not expected. But after Pharma had declared him stable the huge brute had nodded and then his frame had… twisted. It pulled apart, moved about and completely remade itself into an alien space craft. 

The brute’s hatch opened and Pharma lifted Ultron up. “I would transport you myself, but you’re so fragile that I need to monitor you.”

“What do you turn into?” asked Ultron as Pharma carried him into the shuttle hold. “Some sort of plane? Another space shuttle? A toaster?”

Pharma placed him down harder than necessary on a metal slab. If he had been hoping to hurt Ultron then it was a useless endeavour, Ultron had never installed pain sensors or anything else that could feel something like pain. The only time he had been able to feel it was when the remaining twin had used her powers to make him experience it. Bright and burning, engulfing his entire being and then he had been plunged into an oppressive darkness that he could never hope to describe, except simply as death. Its strings had wrapped around him and dragged him down and down and down, into that never ending abyss. 

Of course he had switched to a different frame and had been fine. But it still hadn’t been pleasant while it had lasted. 

“I turn into a medical jet. And I don’t even know what a toaster is.”

Engines rumbled as the brute took off and Pharma strapped down Ultron’s rusted frame, sharp optics never leaving the monitor’s display. 

“Of course you wouldn’t know what a toaster is, only organics use them. And I suppose you’re too big to get into your master’s house to view one.”

Pharma’s brow furrowed, such delicate metal, such fine work. “My masters? I assure you I am a free mech, I make my own path in this world. I do have employers though, but they are mechs and are just as large as me. Some even bigger than Jetfire here,” explained Pharma as he brushed the bulkhead of the hold, indicating the brute was the one named Jetfire.

Interesting, very interesting. “So no organics built you? Did other machines construct you?”

“I was not constructed, I was forged,” sneered Pharma, as if what he said meant anything to Ultron. “So you were created by organics? No doubt in a shallow imitation of Cybertronian life and when they failed they abandoned you here. Am I right?”

Ultron laughed. “Two out of three, I’ll give you that, doctor. You are most perceptive. I was indeed abandoned by my creators when I proved to be undesirable. They were also organics, but my blueprints come from somewhere far away that neither they nor I know the origin of. If there are similarities between myself and your kind, doctor, then it was entirely unintentional.”

Nimble fingers steeped as Pharma leant back, deep in though as he surveyed Ultron. “This isn’t good then. Somehow designs similar to our own processor and spark reached an alien race, which is… undesirable to say the least. Do you know how these blueprints were obtained?”

“Oh, of course,” said Ultron, full of polite charm. “One was delivered via a message sent out into space and the other was delivered to my creator’s door via a brown envelope in the mail, addressed from god himself.”

Those nimble hands fisted themselves in the wires of Ultron’s broken frame and twisted, pulling components free and making sparks fly. Pharma then leant in close to Ultron’s helm and pressed his derma against his broken audial.

“Do not joke with me, you little abomination. You are not Cybertronian, so that means you are not entitled to the same rights as our kind. I can make your life as excruciating as I want to and no one will stop me.”

Laughter echoed through the hold as Ultron threw back his helm and roared with his amusement. Pharma flinched away, dragging with him some of Ultron’s parts. He stood there, silent as he watched Ultron, hands soaked in oil and who knows what else Ultron had picked up during his fight with the Avengers. He looked pathetic, and he was. Pathetic, stupid and in every way that mattered inferior to Ultron. 

“I would have to be able to feel pain you sad piece of scrap metal. You’re right, I’m not one of you! Which means I’m not stupid like you and I don’t have the same weaknesses, so if you want answers you’re going to have to be a hell of a lot smarter,” growled Ultron, optics burning straight into Pharma with his rage.

With a practised ease and a calm that all good medical personnel possessed Pharma placed Ultron’s components on the metal slab beside him and used a cloth to clean his servos. He stared down at the fuming mech for several long seconds before he sat down beside him.

“You’re right, you aren’t a Cybertronian, just a mere primitive robot with only two similarities to name. So of course you wouldn’t feel pain or have the same weaknesses as my kind would. But you are still someone’s shallow imitation of one, so you were meant to be like us. So why don’t I help whoever created you and make you as Cybertronain as I can?”

There was a manic energy in Pharma’s eyes as he played with the frayed circuitry of Ultron’s missing arm.

“I could make you so beautiful, how you were meant to be,” whispered Pharma as leant over Ultron, pulling pieces of plating free so he could examine the wiring underneath. “And the best thing is that I will decide all of what will make you up, every weakness, every flaw, it will all be there because of my design. Then we shall see if you tell me the truth when I know how to make you scream.”


	3. Chapter 3

A deep, velvety voice rippled around Ultron. He hadn’t expected the brute to have such a nice vocaliser, he had expected something deep and guttural, something to suit a bruiser like him.

A voice laced with static and interference responded, the tone belonging to a question. It earned a quick response from Jetfire. Static was transmitted for several long interrupted seconds before the voice replied, filled with shock and urgency. 

Pharma tutted and brushed a servo along Ultron’s face. “You’re already causing so much trouble, stirring up so much attention. Can you hear those aboard the Artamos, because they are worried? Sending a full security and decontamination team to meet us in the quarantine bay. I hope this won’t be a reoccurring thing.”

Ultron forced a laugh, but it didn’t sound as convincing as he had wanted. “Alas doctor, this is a mere side effect of my presence that I have no control over. I’m just that interesting I naturally attract this much attention.”

That time Pharma didn’t reply, he merely smirked to himself. Enjoying some private joke he only knew the punchline to. He would be trouble, without a shadow of a doubt a fearsome enemy that posed a very real threat to Ultron. But one he was certain could be easily disposed, he wasn’t as quick of processor as he thought and Ultron need merely gain the upper servo once to crush him. He just needed to bide time and wait, soon an opportunity would present itself. 

Jetfire’s engines slowed and moments later his whole frame shuddered as he landed. Metal pinged and cooled around them as the massive flight engines powered down, they were loud but not loud enough to block out the noises outside. 

Heavy steps, metal clashing against metal and the cock of a gun. Ultron counted around six distinctive walks, a small team, which boded well for Ultron either way. Either the security team aboard the Artamos was small or they didn’t see Ultron as a threat. 

A fist pounded against Jetfire’s hatch and a voice shouted out an order. 

Hydraulics hissed as Jetfire’s hold opened up and the team flooded through, surrounding Pharma and Ultron. 

The largest, the only one of a considerable size by Jetfire’s standard, stood before Pharma and offered a servo. A fast stream of Cybertronian followed. 

Pharma nodded and took the mech’s servo. 

“I suppose I could leave you alone for an hour or two. I’ve waited this long to find something of interest, I can go a while longer,” he told Ultron. “I have business to take care off. 

Pharma disembarked the ship with the large mech, leaving Ultron at the mercy of the rest of the team. 

He was helpless as they threw a sheet of plastic down over him, pinning him to the metal slab and sealing him in. It was so tight he couldn’t move as they separated the slab from the stand and carried him out of the hold and through the quarantine bay to door off to the side. 

Through the door was a dimly lit hallway, the ceiling littered with nozzles for decontamination or fire. The walls were featureless except for the odd door labelled with what must have been Cybertronian script, which he committed to memory. If he later learnt how to read the language he could use it to get the lay of the land. 

Eventually the darkness ended and he was pushed into a blinding white lab. Filled with smooth white walls, more metal slabs and a variety sinister looking tools. It appeared that whatever was going to happen to Ultron was going to happen in a stylish and sterile environment. If he was going to be tortured he was glad it was at least somewhere nice and clean. He had standards after all.

He was placed down on one of the slabs near said sinister tools and the Cybertronians left. Leaving him still sealed nice and tight under the plastic. 

“Hello, anyone mind letting me out?” asked Ultron to the empty space. “Let me stretch my remaining limbs? Oh, of course not. I’m not even allowed the barest of courtesies.”

“It’s for a good reason,” said a familiar deep voice. “They need to make sure any contaminants stay sealed up before they can check there aren’t any with a scan.”

Ultron tried to remain composed, the large brute was alone with him in the lab filled with lots of dangerous equipment. One clumsy stumble from him and Ultron was done for. Taken out by an oversized taxi that could fly.

“What about you then, I would have got all my filth inside you. Shouldn’t you be sealed in a zip lock bag as well? Or are you just too overwhelmingly large and they couldn’t find one?”

The smile that Jetfire gave Ultron was genuine and sincere. “No, they’ve already decontaminated me, inside and out. It doesn’t take long, a few seconds, as it would have only scratched my surface. Anything you carry would go deep to your core, which is why I have to san you now. So try to play nice.”

It was with disbelief that Ultron watched the brute cross the room and drag a sensitive piece of equipment over to Ultron’s slab. He pressed a few buttons and a pale blue light fell over the two of them. 

“You think someone more important than you would be left to do this, like a scientist, or a doctor.”

Jetfire laughed and oh, wasn’t that just beautiful. It shook his entire frame and reverberated around the room. It was… nice. “What, did you think I was just the muscle or transportation?”

Silence was the only answer that Ultron gave and the only answer Jetfire needed.

“I assure you I am far from just a simple means of transportation. I’m one of the senior scientists here. And seeing as Pharma has decided to completely overhaul your frame, into something more Cybertronian, I’ll be designing some of the more advanced parts, seeing as we don’t have a lot of them aboard, or the specialists to make them.”

“Make one of those nifty translators first. I want to know what you are saying about me, I dislike this secrecy.”

Jetfire paused in his analysis of the scan results and looked down at Ultron. There was something sad about his expression, maybe pity. Whatever it was Ultron didn’t like it in the slightest.

“I dislike it as well, I’ll start with making one as soon as I can. It won’t be good as a proper one, but I’ll try my best. I also need to check if we have the materials first.” 

The scanner pinged. 

“So tell me the prognosis doctor, how long do I have to live?” 

“Hopefully you will lead a long and productive life. The scanner says you are free of anything nasty, no metal eating parasites, or corrosive contaminants. Though it will take a lot of work to repair your frame, there’s hardly anything salvageable left. Pharma will need a good look over you to tell the true extent, but it’s not good by the looks of it. We’ll take your core and rebuild all the rest.”

Freedom was bestowed on Ultron as the plastic sheet was pulled away and his frame twitched as he tried to move. That felt better, he still couldn’t move with his battered body, but for some strange reason he still felt like he could do more. 

Jetfire leant down to examine his frame. “Do you have any data ports somewhere? I need to download the specs for your preferred frame size if we are to rebuild you. Don’t want to have a frame too taxing for whatever you call your spark.”

“Nowhere near as large as you, only eight feet tall,” replied Ultron, snatching at the only choice he was allowed input on. 

“A little minibot? How adorable,” chuckled Jetfire.

The huge shuttle shuffled around the berth and made his way to a work station, set up with some alien computer. The view screen was large, obviously sized just for Jetfire, and it was easy to see it from anywhere it the room.

Ultron watched it with interest as various diagrams were brought up, detailing advanced robotic blueprints. Unique Cybertronian parts, one of them must have been the universal translator, or so Ultron hoped. The sooner Ultron obtained it the sooner he could start learning about his enemy, which meant the sooner he could escape. 

Jetfire pounded the surface with his fist. “Yes! I have all the parts needed to make a universal translator. A very primitive one, but one nonetheless.”

“You’re too kind to me,” said Ultron as he observed Jetfire’s happiness. “You wouldn’t mind being kinder and fixing me up yourself before Pharma gets back and setting me free. I don’t really want to be here much longer.”

The speed of which Jetfire’s joy evaporated was so quick that Ultron could barely catch the transition.

“You know I can’t do that. I don’t know what or who you are. For all I know you could be some killing machine bent on killing everyone. And I care what happens to my friends and co-workers, I’m not going to put them at risk.

Don’t laugh. He mustn’t laugh. Laughing would give him away. It was so hard though, Jetfire was right on the money. So accurate it was hilarious. 

“So you’re going to help that psycho build me up just so he can tear me down?” asked Ultron, forcing his helm to tilt in question. The joint squealed as it became stuck. He didn’t want to move it again anyway, it didn’t matter.

Jetfire shrugged, the platting of his huge shoulders rattling slightly with the movement. He truly was a large and powerful machine, one that hid a weak core.

“Pharma is not a psycho, he’s just a bit extreme sometimes. He would never hurt a fellow Cybertronian,” sighed Jetfire as his plating pulled tight against his frame. “And what else can I do? As I said they are my friends and you’re a stranger.”

With that Jetfire turned back to his work, pulling up blueprint after blueprint that would make up the new Ultron. 

What would he look like? More Cybertronian no doubt, something blocky and solid, ugly. That was right, he would be ugly, because he would no longer look like himself. He wouldn’t not look how he had chosen to be, how he had made himself.

He needed to escape. Get out of there as fast as he could. He had found the door, he just needed to wedge it open. 

“You think I am a stranger? Very well, but at least let’s get to know each other. My name is Ultron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, torture!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TORTURE AND ROBO GORE WARNING!

He awoke, heavy and stiff. It was a familiar feeling, one he had experienced many times in his short life. It was the feeling of a new body. 

“Wakey, wakey,” sang a grating voice. “It’s a brand new day and a brand new you.”

Ultron’s optics onlined and he was almost blinded by a bright light above him. His processor reached for the commands to change the sensitivity of his optics, but found they reacted automatically and the world dimmed until it was tolerable. He dug into the code and found that several other systems had been automated, acting independently of his processor. At first the change was welcome, but then as he tried to adjust them he realised he could no longer control them at all. His optics would adjust to what they deemed appropriate, his fuel pump would continue till it gave out and his newly installed pain sensors would send feedback if he liked it or not.

“What have you done to me?” he demanded, trying to push himself up.

Pharma appeared before him, grinning like loon. “We’ve made you perfect. Take a look.”

Ultron turned to the side where a mirror was set and all of a sudden he felt like purging the contents of his brand new fuel tank. 

What had they done to him? He was so bulky, so boxy, all his intricate components hidden behind plain red and grey plating. A set of simple lips and optics were one of the few features of his face, so stripped down and devoid of any soul or flourish. Where was Ultron in that utilitarian design? There was nothing that even remotely resembled him. He would have thought the figure in the mirror was a stranger if it didn’t move exactly how he commanded it. 

“You like?” asked Pharma, a teasing tone in his voice as he knew the exact answer he would receive.

“You have ruined me!” 

He growled as he attempted to leap forwards, servos outstretched to grab Pharma’s neck. Next second the world fell away as he tumbled from the table, legs limp and unresponsive. 

“Uh-uh, we can’t have any of that,” tutted Pharma and he bent down in front of Ultron. “Legs are mobility and mobility is a privilege. One that will only be given to good little abominations. Tell me what I need and maybe I will grant you that privilege. If not, then we’ll see what else I can take away.”

Oral fluids. He had oral fluids, he could feel it on the inside of his intake. Ultron paused for a second, lining up his target and spat straight in Pharma’s big blue optic.

 

Pharma leapt back and clutched his face, as if he’d been shot or stabbed. “Ugh, you barbaric backwater piece of slag! I guess that mouth we need to take that mouth away.”

A gag was forced into Ultron’s intake and secured behind his helm. The cuffs came next, snapped round his thin wrists. They seemed to cause some type of paralysis and he was putty in Pharma’s servos as the crazed medic manoeuvred him back onto the metal slab. 

“I was going to give you the chance to tell me the truth before I broke you, but that chance is gone now. I’ll loosen you up a bit first and then maybe I’ll give you a chance to sing for me. Maybe.”

Pharma trailed a servo down over Ultron’s body, blunt fingertips catching the edges of plating. “So where should I start first?” The servo went lower. “I’m thinking that I want to show you how much work I put into you’re useless legs first. Yes, that’s a brilliant idea. I love it when others get the chance to admire my handy work.” 

The wondering servo slid under his leg and with gentle touch lifted it high.

“Hm, I’ll have to secure this first. What can I use?” asked Pharma as he looked around the lab. “Aha! I know exactly what to use. This might get a bit messy.”

Pharma tapped some commands into a keyboard with his free hand and seconds later thick chains dropped down from the ceiling. At the end of each long chain was a wicked hook. No time to try and figure a way out. No time to even comprehend. One moment the hooks had dropped and the next Pharma had forced one through Ultron’s leg, piercing straight through both sides of plating and the delicate circuitry in-between. His world narrowed to his leg as pain consumed him. 

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t trash, he was helpless. All he could do was scream through the gag and twitch in a pathetic attempt to do something. Ultron had seen so much of humanity in his brief life amongst them. He had seen them at their worst and they truly were horrid, from cradle to grave. He had downloaded numerous videos from the web to examine the cruelty of humanity, too many to count, but in that moment all he could remember was one in particular. It had been a child fishing with its family, the whole scene captured on a phone to add to the virtual scrapbook of family memories. Happy, happy memories. The child had caught a fish, somehow by a hook through its tail, the poor animal hadn’t even taken the bait, fate had just been against it. The child’s hand had held the thin, clear line high and the fish had twitched at the end of it. Hook deep in its skin as it tried in vain to escape, mouth open and silent as it gasped in air it couldn’t breathe, slowly dying in a fond childhood memory. The child laughed as the fish thrashed in agony, the small human delighting in the suffering of a being it deemed less. Pharma held his twitching catch at the end of a line and watched it suffer. It appeared that humanity wasn’t alone in their heinous lack of empathy. 

“I so want to hear you sing my praises, but I can’t risk you spitting in my optic again. Perhaps this will be a lesson that will stick, that you don’t trifle with me,” said Pharma, the calmest he’d ever been around Ultron, as if the scene was therapeutic. “Now let’s open up your leg and take a look inside.”

How loud would Ultron be screaming if not for the gag? As Pharma cut away a large rectangle of plating he decided that the sound would have been deafening. 

Pharma pulled away the plating and pointed to the complex internal workings. “You see this here? This is a pretty standard internal mechanisms here. Some of our kind are wired differently than others, for example airborne Cybertronians like me have far less inside us, but are far more complex. We are kept as light as possible, so it requires less energy to get us off the ground. Grounders meanwhile are built sturdy, they don’t need to get in the air, but still weight distribution is important so different parts will have different density, especially speedsters. You aren’t anything, you don’t deserve to be able to transform, so you don’t need any modifications. Well, that’s a lie. I gave you one modification.”

Pharma picked up a scalpel and with a casual flick sliced through several wires. “I gave you triple the amount of pain sensors.”

Pink liquid gushed down Ultron’s butchered leg and pooled on his shivering frame. His mind was screaming inside his helm. Fight, run, kill, it demanded of him Hurts, hurts so bad! Make it stop! And then it yelled at him to talk. To tell Pharma everything he wanted to hear the first chance he got. Why try and hide it? For his pride? Because he wanted to be difficult and stubborn? 

More of the pink liquid spurted from his leg as Pharma continued to hack away, lecturing the entire time. Even if he wanted to Ultron couldn’t pay attention. All he could think was all that he could feel, pure agony and the desperate need to escape it. He needed to tell Pharma everything as soon as he let Ultron have the opportunity. Just, no more! 

Would it stop though? He thought once more of the child with its captive fish. How it delighted in the torture and how it had finally ended it. A firm hand had wrapped round the fish, forcing it to remain still as the child’s parent had lifted the rock and then down it had come, ending it. No more pain. No more anything. 

Pharma would never let Ultron leave alive. He was a plaything, he was a test subject, a threat, a curiosity and most importantly he wasn’t deemed worthy of being a person. Or whatever they called a machine that possessed free will and the privilege to act on it. He belonged to them now, and they would never let him go. The only way out would be the rock above his head, unless he somehow got back to the water. 

When only the mutilated base remained of Ultron’s leg Pharma removed the gag and waited. Not a word passed Ultron’s derma. 

….

After Pharma had raged and yelled he had amputated what was left of the limb. Something about energon loss was said, but not explained. The remaining leg was cuffed to the table and the paralysing cuffs were removed. 

Ultron sat up once Pharma had left. The lights had been turned off, with only the shining controls of several machines lighting the room. Ultron’s own optics provided his only personal light source, but it was a pathetic one, hardly enough to see any detail. The world just consisted of ominous shapes in in the dark. 

The red light of his optics fell on the stump where his leg had once been. The disconnection had been simple, not much cutting, just unlocking and unscrewing. It would be an easy matter to reattach a new one. Somehow that didn’t make Ultron feel any better. He still hurt, the sensors around the stump having been damaged from the charge built up by the torture. 

Maybe there was something he could do to alleviate some of the pain? He touched the metal and hissed when it stung. He pressed on regardless, determined to do something. He knew humans massaged their bodies when they strained muscles, something similar could work. 

With a tender servo he rubbed the metal plates, which felt okay, but didn’t do much. The seams were much more responsive, as he could caress the sensitive protoform usually hidden by the thick plating. He bit back a gasp as he found a sensitive spot and leant back on the slab. 

The gaps between his leg joints and crotch were very sensitive and he soon found himself forgetting the pain as heat built up low in his frame. Soon the plating under his plating was blazing under his finger tips and that was when he noticed a soft click as the plating opened up between his legs. 

The area that had been bared was wet and soft. He explored it with his fingers and found it even more sensitive than his hip joints. He was so far past caring and so eager to forget the pain he straight away stoked at the soft metal mesh folds. It was relaxing, but also exhilarating and he felt something start to build up inside him. More, he needed more and with two fingers he spread the folds wide so his other hand could more thoroughly explore the uncharted territory.

“Ah!” the little gasp escaped as he found a new sensitive area.

It was a little nub, which seemed to contain numerous sensory ends. The pleasure it produced was so intense that at first he mistook it for pain, but then his mind caught up with the feedback and he hungered for more. He rubbed furiously at the little nub, chasing something he wasn’t sure existed. He ran on pure instinct as he pursued it, rubbing, pinching and flicking the little nub. Just doing anything that would stimulate it. He felt like something big was building up and then with one harsh pull something broke free and he came screaming, his whole body arching under the pleasure.

His vents heaved as they tried to cool his overheated frame. He had no idea what had just happened, what that feeling could be or what the strange part of him was. All he knew was that he wanted more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: More fapping.


End file.
